


Darkness falls across the land, the midnight hour is close at hand

by Toomanyfandoms99



Series: (No Longer A) Secret Marriage [34]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Secret Marriage, Soul Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-08 17:39:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15935177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toomanyfandoms99/pseuds/Toomanyfandoms99
Summary: Dean stood up from the couch, his insides roiling with anger.  He used to revere this man.  It was pathetic of him.  He set Dean back years with the angel he loves more than anything.Dean materialized a gun in his hand.And raised the barrel of his pistol between his father’s eyes.





	Darkness falls across the land, the midnight hour is close at hand

**Author's Note:**

> Title lyrics taken from “Thriller” by Michael Jackson. This part has been in my mind for weeks. I hope you enjoy!

Balthazar, Castiel, and Dean walked through Heaven’s prison. As promised, Cas would question Meg on the whereabouts of a pack of demons running rampant. Since they were chasing after Meg, Balthazar had a chance to end his mission swiftly.

Ever since a rift opened in Hell, fifteen remaining monsters have been tearing apart dimensions like they were flimsy wallpaper. Killing the demons would lower the number significantly. And with Meg seemingly on their side, that helped matters a lot.

As they walked, Castiel asked Balthazar, “if she cooperates, will you spare her?”

Balthazar hid a smile. “Would you like me to spare your ex?”

Cas was careful to leave all emotions out of his tone. He said truthfully, “she’s not like other demons. She’s a decent person. She will help us.”

Balthazar was quiet for a beat. “That’s a yes, then. You want me to spare her, so I will. You’re a good judge of character.” A question on Balthazar’s lips, he asked Dean, “you cool with Cassie calling the shots on this one?”

Dean nodded. “I trust my husband, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Balthazar raised an eyebrow, clearly perplexed at the unusual response. He didn’t say anything, though.

They reached Meg’s cell, the demon woman watching through the bars neutrally. “Hi, guys. Ya look cute today.”

“Thanks,” Dean said coolly.

Meg’s lips curved into a smirk. “So you do speak. Hello. Sorry for being such a bother. I promise I mean no harm. I’m happy for you and Clarence.”

Before Dean could search for a reply, Castiel asked, “why are a pack of demons after you?”

“I didn’t wanna get tortured that day,” Meg said nonchalantly. Cas felt a pang of guilt. “It gets kinda boring after a while.”

“And a rift just so happened to open up as you were running away?” 

“Yup,” Meg replied. “It was a nice stroke of luck. For about thirty seconds.”

“Then they came after you?” Cas asked.

“Yeah. I dimension hopped for a long time,” Meg said. “I’m not sure why they haven’t found me here yet.”

“You said you shook them off.”

“I did, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out where I went.” Meg thought. “But then again, these guys are fucking morons, so what do I know.”

“Do you know where they could have gone?” Cas asked. This was the really important question.

Meg huffed. “My guess? They’re still nearby. Either that, or they’ll come here within a few days on their own. Those bastards like to hunt their prey.” Her tone shifted into something softer as she batted her eyelashes. “You boys tryna save me?”

Cas exhaled through his nose, hating himself for being a tad amused. “Thanks for your cooperation,” he said gruffly, his form of dismissal. He started to leave with Balthazar and Dean.

“See ya soon,” Meg said cheerily.

————

Meg complicated everything, in Dean’s opinion.

Here was his problem: Dean couldn’t hate her. He couldn’t put a tack on her picture and say that he hated her for being with Cas before him. His husband was gorgeous. Dean couldn’t blame Meg for pouncing on the opportunity when Dean himself was too afraid to try.

Dean also hated to admit it, but he actually liked Meg. She had similar qualities to Dean, which made them compatible conversationalists.

It amused Dean that his husband had a type after all. Instead of appearances, though, Cas had a type of personality that he found attractive. Dean shouldn’t have been so surprised. Cas was a former angel who saw souls before physical bodies.

Dean hated that he couldn’t hate Meg. It was a real predicament.

And Dean didn’t realize until it was too late that he was broadcasting all of his conflicting thoughts to Cas.

When would he learn that he needed to be more careful?

Dean busied himself around their shared cabin in Heaven, unsure of how to start this conversation. Maybe this discussion could be tabled for later.

Or not.

Cas crossed the living room with a renewed purpose, watching Dean cook from the opposite side of the counter. Technically, they didn’t need to eat, but Dean and Cas love food. So much.

“I wish I could alleviate or resolve the conflict in your mind,” Cas said, “but I don’t know how.” He tapped on the countertop in thought, his head bowed. “I don’t know how to top my last speech.”

Dean set down his stirring spoon. “I don’t expect you to have all the answers. Maybe we can all be friends.”

Cas snorted. “Meg would rather leave than do that kumbaya shit. In fact,” Cas paused, “it’s likely she’ll want to leave once this is all over, or at least want to stay out of our way.”

“Maybe,” Dean said, hating himself for wanting either option to come to fruition.

————

It took a few days, but Balthazar and Jack knew where the demons were.

The good and bad news? They were on their way to Heaven.

————

Dean wasn’t sure how it happened.

One second, he was watching a movie with Cas, both of them cuddled up on the couch.

The next second, a figure standing in the middle of his cabin living room rendered Dean motionless.

If he weren’t already dead, he would have died of a heart attack.

Dean was paralyzed upon seeing the man he had dreaded coming face-to-face with for two-thirds of his life.

A paralysis that only lasted about three seconds.

Then, Dean was on the defense.

Dean stood up from the couch, his insides roiling with anger. He used to revere this man. It was pathetic of him. He set Dean back years with the angel he loves more than anything.

Dean materialized a gun in his hand.

And raised the barrel of his pistol between his father’s eyes.

John Winchester held up his hands in surrender. He looked pleased to see such a fast reaction from Dean.

That only made Dean more uneasy.

What the fuck was going on?

You know what? He didn’t care.

“Hey, John,” Dean sneered, venom leaking through gritted teeth. “Have fun in Hell?”

John looked hurt by not being called Dad. In his mind, Dean was still his loyal soldier.

Never again.

“Where are we?” John asked, his voice sounding too much like Dean’s for Dean’s own liking.

Dean still held the gun between him and John. He didn’t know what he would do if John stepped an inkling closer. “Heaven. Clearly, you don’t belong here.”

John grew more and more confused with every nasty word directed towards him. “If we’re in Heaven, where are the angels?”

Dean knew his father was yanking his chain. John had never believed in angels. He was about to be dead wrong. “Before I call one here to take you away, is there anything you’d like to say to me?”

John was quiet for a moment. Then, he glanced at Cas.

Dean cocked his gun in warning, spinning the full barrel of bullets to make its notorious clicking sound. He practically growled his subsequent command. “Don’t look at him.”

John looked back at Dean, visibly surprised at his anger and possession towards the man on the couch. “Who is he?”

Dean knew what his next words would bring. He replied anyway. “My husband.”

John’s entire expression changed. From neutral to confused. From confused to angry. 

From angry to disgusted.

John said, “I didn’t think that I raised a fa-”

Dean squeezed the trigger. He had left a chamber empty on purpose. “Strike two,” Dean said angrily, his blood boiling. “Strike three goes between your eyes.”

John looked ready to speak again.

“If you complete that sentence,” Dean growled, “I never want to see you again.”

John closed his mouth. 

Dean was surprised that rendered him silent. He knew, however, that John was still disgusted by him.

Dean lowered the gun and said a prayer. “Jack.”

The nephilim appeared beside Dean, then looked at Cas and the mysterious man, taking stock of the situation. 

Jack looked to Dean for guidance. Dull and uncaring enough to sound like a judge sentencing a convicted felon to prison, Dean said, “lock my father away.”

Jack furrowed his eyebrows, but did as he was commanded. He flew away with John.

Dean made his pistol disappear and fell to the ground on his knees. He shook like a leaf, the first round of hot tears leaking from his eyelids. He was overwhelmed with emotion, his vision blurring and his nose running and his breathing heavy. 

His favorite pair of hands made contact, one on Dean’s shoulder and one rubbing Dean’s back in slow circles. A strong muscled torso shadowed Dean’s front, and he fell into his husband’s chest. He stained Cas’s shirt with tears, knowing that Cas wouldn’t care in the long run. The hand on Dean’s shoulder moved to card through Dean’s hair. Dean found that more comforting as tears left streaks of fire down his face. Dean was blubbering nonsense all of a sudden, and Cas was shushing him. Cas’s lips pressed against Dean’s temple, the little shushing noises soothing him into silence. This technique went on for a few moments, but Dean’s eyes still leaked like a faucet. Cas was incredibly patient, murmuring to Dean to let it all out. 

Dean obliged, and he didn’t know how long he cried.

An hour? Two? Three?

It felt like an eternity for Dean’s eyes to dry. He had effectively cried himself out. He hadn’t done that since Cas died saving Jack.

Dean recognized a few Enochian words that Cas murmured sweetly into his hair. He found himself smiling a little.

Castiel Winchester never failed to be perfect in his eyes.

Dean grew completely silent, and finally lifted his head from its burrow in Cas’s chest. Dean knew that his eyes were bloodshot and his face was a blotchy red. But he stared into Cas’s eyes and felt beautiful anyway.

As if reading Dean’s mind, Cas leaned down and pressed a feather light kiss to Dean’s lips. The soft touch made all of Dean’s conflicting thoughts fade into the background.

Cas gathered Dean’s face in his hands and murmured, “what do you need from me to feel better?”

“I just wanna feel you,” Dean blurted out, feeling silly for saying it out loud.

Cas couldn’t help but look amused. “Wanna cuddle?”

Dean answered hesitantly, “maybe a little. Yeah.”

Cas stood up from their position on the floor and held out a hand. “C’mon.”

Dean clasped Cas’s hand, feeling his mood already brighten as Cas’s natural body heat enveloped him. Cas lead him to their bedroom, encapsulating Dean once they laid down together.

A moment passed in silence.

Cas pursed his lips, then said hesitantly, “he doesn’t matter anymore, you know. Never shed a tear for that man again. He never deserved you. Don’t give him an ounce of leeway until he begs for your forgiveness. You hear me?”

Dean swallowed thickly, overcome with emotion. “I hear you.”

————

“Remember that single tortured soul you mentioned?”

Balthazar stood up at Jack’s prompt. “Yes. Why?”

“It’s Dean’s father.”

Balthazar’s jaw dropped. “What?!”

“I got him locked up,” Jack said. “Dean told me to.”

“Did he say why?”

“Dad looked shaken up. I’ve never seen him like that. Ever.”

Balthazar frowned. Dean Winchester? Shaken up?

That didn’t sound right at all.

Balthazar said, “I’d like to see Daddy dearest. Maybe I can gauge what’s wrong.”

Jack lead him to where he kept John in Heaven’s prison.

————

John took one look at Balthazar and said, “am I really being held captive by a pansy?”

Balthazar pressed his thumb against his index and middle fingers. John’s mouth was forced shut from the simple soundless spell.

“Ah, I see,” Balthazar said, staring into John’s eyes as he formed his hand into a fist, twisting John’s lips closed painfully, “he’s a homophobe.” Balthazar squeezed his hand harder, John screaming in the back of his throat. He didn’t release his hold on John until a moment later. He watched John gasp and struggle for every last breath. Balthazar and Jack watched unsympathetically. When John gathered himself, Balthazar said, “sexuality, like gender, is a spectrum, you ignoramus. Ever heard of bisexuality? That’s means you like both, like your son.” Balthazar thought for a beat, then amended, “like both of your sons, actually. Both married guys, though.” Balthazar revelled in John’s shock. “So you better wrap your head around that shit, accept it, and move the fuck on. If you don’t, I’ll toss you back into Hell, or the nearest pit of hellfire. Whichever I feel like that day.” Balthazar pointed to a silent John. “You got me, old man?”

“Yes,” John grumbled, looking as if his entire world had come crumbling down. 

Balthazar believed that he deserved it. Homophobia was a relic of the past, like cave paintings and hieroglyphics and dinosaur fossils.

Balthazar and Jack moved to leave, but John said, “wait. Are you really angels?”

Balthazar retracted part of his bronze left wing, Jack spreading his pearly white wings out fully.

John’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Holy shit.”

Balthazar and Jack hid their wings again and departed without another word.

————

Balthazar visited Dean and Cas’s shared Heaven for the first time the next morning.

When Dean answered the door, Balthazar said, “this place is too Brokeback Mountain for my liking.”

Dean snorted and let Balthazar inside. Soda boundered towards Balthazar and sniffed him. Balthazar pet the Labrador retriever’s head in greeting. 

Balthazar examined the interior of the small cabin, taking a moment to eye Dean’s Polaroids encompassing an entire wall. The wall held a copy of every Polaroid Dean had taken, the majority of them being of Cas and nature. Balthazar declared, “this is too gay for my liking.”

Cas appeared from the bedroom and chuckled, hearing Balthazar’s sentence. “Even for you?”

Balthazar pretended to look offended, then broke out into a grin. He plopped onto an armchair without asking, but Dean and Cas weren’t bothered by it. The couple sat on the loveseat across from him, Cas nursing what looked to be a cup of strong black tea.

“What’s brought you to our neck of the woods?” Cas asked. “Pun intended.”

Balthazar chose to keep his expression neutral. This was a serious matter. “Nice father you got there, Dean. A real shitface.”

Dean slowly nodded in agreement.

“I came to ask what you wanted to do with him,” Balthazar said. “I’m down with whatever, honestly. I tried to teach him a lesson or two about tolerance and acceptance, but I don’t think I was harsh enough to get it through his thick skull.”

Dean smiled. Actually smiled. Balthazar was delighted with himself.

Cas asked, “what’d you do?”

“Nothing serious,” Balthazar said, crossing his legs, “just this.” He made the motion of his thumb pressing his index and middle finger, without putting the spell into effect.

Cas and Dean laughed. Actually laughed.

“Thanks for having my back,” Dean said genuinely. “Not a lot of in-laws would do that.”

“It was no problem. I love finding opportunities to put people in their place.” Balthazar segued, “now where would you like to put your father?”

Dean thought for a moment, Cas watching his expression carefully. Balthazar waited patiently, observing the couple with interest.

They were such weirdos. Their legendary staring contests, whether one-sided or not, got old decades ago.

Dean finally replied, “keep him in the slammer. Once the other rift problems are solved, we’ll deal with him.”

“In a game of Russian roulette?” Balthazar suggested.

That got the couple to laugh again.

“We’ll see if he changes his attitude,” Dean said.

Balthazar agreed to Dean’s terms and took his leave.

————

Dean, filled with trepidation, knocked on Mary’s door in her Heaven.

Cas squeezed Dean’s hand in comfort as Mary opened the door. She motioned for them to come inside, but they stayed still.

Mary frowned, sensing something was amiss. “What’s wrong?”

Dean said, “I’ll tell you at Bobby’s.”

————

Bobby opened the door in his Heaven. He studied Dean, Cas, and Mary, then let them inside with a confused expression.

Bobby and Mary shared a look as Dean and Cas sat down. Mary shrugged, and Bobby sighed. They both sat down too, waiting.

Cas looked at Dean, silently encouraging him.

Then, Dean said, “a rift opened in Hell. Monsters got through. Demons, too. But what I want you to focus on is a single tortured soul that escaped. It turns out,” Dean huffed, “that single tortured soul is my father.”

Dean stared at his lap. He didn’t want to see Bobby and Mary’s reactions. He allowed Cas to slip his hand into Dean’s.

Dean counted to five and looked at his audience again. Bobby remained in disbelief, and Mary was completely shocked.

Bobby asked, “how do you know this?”

Dean refused to let his emotions beat him again and rise to the surface. He said blankly, “he showed up in our living room.”

“Then what’d you do?” 

“When he saw Cas” was left unsaid.

Dean replied, “I put a gun between his eyes and had Jack lock him up.”

There was a short silence.

Bobby smiled proudly. “Good for you.”

Cas squeezed Dean’s hand in solidarity.

Dean said to his mother, “you can go see him, if you want.”

Mary said hesitantly, “I’m not sure if I’m ready for that.”

Dean nodded. “I wasn’t either. I understand.”

“Thanks for telling us,” Mary said quietly, a permanent frown staining her face.

Dean hated himself for putting it there.

————

The demons appeared in Heaven’s prison and caused an instant ruckus.

They were coming after Meg, and their motive was clear. They wanted to kill her for good this time.

On a whim, Balthazar and Jack brought Dean and Castiel to help.

“Hope you’re both not rusty fighters,” Balthazar said to the couple.

Both looked rejuvenated by the opportunity to kill some demons. A part of Dean and Castiel missed it. The rush of adrenaline, the racing heartbeats, the feeling of power and control.

The chance to show off their compatible fighting styles.

Dean materialized multiple demon-killing blades. Cas did the same, lining his blades inside a copy of his old tan trench coat, which hadn’t made an appearance in ages — due to being partially burned from when Castiel fell from Heaven.

Dean caught Cas’s eye and smiled. Both thought of old memories, not feeling the need to speak them aloud.

“This is no time for mooning at each other,” Balthazar cut in. “We ready to go, kids?”

Dean and Castiel broke eye contact and nodded, Jack mimicking the motion.

————

John knew something was going on in this prison.

He only wished these angels hadn’t been so cunning. There was no way for him to escape.

He was a sitting duck.

————

Jack flew to Meg before the demons got to her. He stationed himself near her cell, a blade in one hand and a gun in the other.

Meg sighed in relief. “Hey, kid. Thanks.”

Jack nodded.

“What’s your name, by the way?” Meg asked kindly. “I’m sorry I forgot to ask before.”

“Jack,” he replied curtly.

Meg smiled. “You look like a Jack. It’s a sweet, yet no-nonsense kind of name.”

“Thanks?”

“You’re welcome,” Meg said. “Know how to use those?”

Jack glanced down at his weapons, his eyes filled with determination. He nodded, full of confidence.

Meg was impressed. “You must be the oldest nephilim ever recorded, then.”

“Yes,” Jack confirmed, not choosing to elaborate with specifics.

Exhausted with small talk, Meg sat in the back of her cell and allowed herself to be protected.

————

Once Balthazar surveyed the situation, he realized there were more demons than expected.

He had guessed five. There was actually ten.

Balthazar was glad he brought Dean and Castiel. They compensated for his misjudgment.

And hey, that meant there were five monsters left after this. That was good news.

But bad news for now.

The ten demons saw Balthazar, Dean, and Cas on the opposite end of the hallway. A whole host of cells surrounded them, trapping both groups in the middle.

John and Meg were around somewhere.

Balthazar glanced at Dean to his left, and Cas to his right. Both looked ready to fight.

Oh, Balthazar couldn’t wait. Watching Dean and Castiel Winchester fight was a thing of beauty. And they were hungry for blood.

Balthazar slipped a blade out of his brown trench coat. The glint of the metal had the demons growling and charging towards them.

Balthazar, Dean, and Castiel walked in perfect synchronization, like a clique of schoolgirls judging other students as they strutted down the hallways. They kept a slower pace, not in any rush. The demons would come to them.

They crossed Meg’s cell, giving Jack nods as they walked past him. Jack cocked his gun, making sure the demon-killing bullets were fully loaded. Meg went to the front of her cell again upon seeing Cas and Dean walk past. She studied Jack and gripped the bars of her cell. She tried to get a good view as she heard snarls growing nearer.

Once the demons got close enough to Balthazar, he materialized a gun matching Jack’s and shot the nearest demon in the head. After a flickering orange glow, the first demon fell to the ground.

That riled up the other nine.

The demons went into groups of three, each one going for Balthazar, Dean, and Cas.

Both sides clashed.

————

Dean and Cas let their six demons surround them in a circle. They went back-to-back, their bond — that not even death could sever — thrumming erratically at the familiarity of the situation.

“Ready, darlin’?” Dean muttered over the din of demon snarls.

“I’m ready,” Cas answered.

To kick things off, Cas gripped the handle of a blade that was hidden in his trench coat sleeve. He threw it with startling precision, Dean reminded of Gabriel’s remarkable knife throwing skills. The blade landed in the demon’s forehead, the vessel falling dead.

That aggravated the other five. One leapt at Dean lightning fast.

Thankfully, Dean had learned from his husband how to be faster.

Dean drove a blade into the demon’s stomach. As it howled in pain, Dean slipped a second blade out of his army green jacket. He stabbed the demon in the neck for good measure, making its death extra painful as it fell to the ground.

A demon charged for Cas next, but he was quick enough to procure a blade from his inner trench coat pocket. The sharp knife made a home in the demon’s chest. Cas materialized a sword, his personal favorite, — if Dean recalled correctly — and relieved the demon of its head just before it left the vessel. 

There were three demons left. None of them were stupid enough to charge at Dean or Cas.

Dean reached for a blade, and found that he didn’t have any more.

Dammit.

Cas read his mind and touched the back of Dean’s hand with his own. Dean inched his hand backward, feeling the handle of a blade press into his palm. Dean sent a burst of love through their bond as a thank you. Dean grasped the blade and went into a defensive position. Cas went on the offense, holding his sword up threateningly.

Cas sent through a mental message: “I’m going to step forward.”

Dean sent: “I’ve got your back, as always.”

Cas sent: “On three.”

Dean sent: “Three.”

Cas stepped forward, swinging his sword at two armed demons. The other demon went after Dean with a knife. Dean held up his blade to parry the knife, sticking to Cas’s back like glue. Dean parried every blow the demon made, feeling invincible.

Dean soon grew tired of the knife fight. Dean turned slightly towards Cas. His husband somehow blocked two demons’ attacks with one hand on his sword and the other tossing a blade. Dean caught the blade’s hilt in midair with a swipe of his hand. He used the second blade to catch the demon unaware and stab it in the neck. The demon glowed orange and fell to the ground. Dean saw Balthazar killing his third and final demon, then went to Cas’s aid. Cas was handling both demons just fine on his own, but Dean wanted to cut this fight short. 

He met Jack’s gaze. When did he get so close by?

Jack held out the handle of a gun towards Dean. He slid the blade in his jacket pocket and grabbed Jack’s pistol.

Dean caught a flash of Meg and a blur of someone else watching him from afar. He nodded at Jack in thanks.

Dean lifted the pistol at the demons Cas was fighting. He closed one eye and aimed the barrel at the demons’ heads. He waited a few beats, Cas glancing at Dean quickly. He pushed both demons forward while Cas stepped backwards. 

The heads of both demons fit perfectly in the barrel of Dean’s gun. Target acquired.

He squeezed the trigger.

A single bullet pierced both of the demons’ heads, whizzing through their temples. They glowed orange within a split second of each other, both dead vessels dropping to the ground with loud thumps.

Cas stared at Dean with a raised eyebrow, but recovered quickly.

Dean knew his husband was turned on right now. It gave Dean a thrill.

He lowered the pistol and returned it to Jack. The nephilim said, “good shot, Dad.”

Dean heard two sets of gasps. One female, one male.

Dean turned towards the female voice. Meg. She was standing behind bars near Jack. Her eyes were ridiculously wide.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Not biologically,” he mumbled.

Balthazar and Cas caught up with them at Meg’s cell. Dean saw a glimpse of someone in the corner of his eye, but ignored it a second time.

“Thanks for the save,” Meg said genuinely. “I could have totally taken care of that, though.”

Dean smiled, a real one. Without any sarcasm, he said, “of course. No doubt.”

He heard someone’s hands rattle around the cell bars. Dean finally turned in that direction.

John. That’s what he’d been seeing.

Dean looked at his father without a single hint of emotion and turned away again. He asked Balthazar, “what’s the plan now?”

“For starters,” Meg piped up, “I can get out of your hair, if you like. No need to kill me.”

Cas looked startled at her final sentence. “We weren’t going to kill you anyway.”

Dean heard another gasp from his father, but everyone ignored it.

Yes, his husband could speak. It was the first time John heard Cas utter a single syllable, and Dean knew how Cas’s voice sounded to the untrained ear: a rumbling stormcloud, a bolt of thunder that could rattle bones. Dean was also pleased that John didn’t even know Cas’s name. 

John didn’t deserve Dean’s trust yet. Not even another glance.

“You have two options,” Balthazar told Meg. “Stay in Heaven, if you swear an oath to be good and stay out of trouble. Or, you can go wherever the portal I create takes you and we don’t see you for a very long time.”

Meg weighed her options carefully. Dean truly had no clue which she would pick. 

Meg said, “I’ll take the second one.”

Balthazar unlocked Meg’s cell and let her step out of it. “Come on,” Balthazar said, “we’ll drop you off someplace nice.”

————

Meg hugged Castiel, Dean, Balthazar, and Jack.

She looked over at the portal and told them, “thanks for this. I’m glad I landed here.”

Since Meg wasn’t one to make a fuss, she waved and disappeared into the portal. It closed unceremoniously, and Meg was gone as suddenly as she had arrived.

————

Dean found Cas sitting in one of Heaven’s many lush gardens, surrounded by vibrant rose bushes.

Dean plucked a dethorned baby pink rose and sat next to his husband. He laid the flower in Cas’s lap, a smile reaching Cas’s lips. He picked up the rose gingerly, inhaling the pungent scent of it. Cas rubbed the feather soft petals with his thumb and looked at Dean. 

“You’re upset about Meg,” Dean said softly.

Cas deflated a little. “She didn’t have to leave right away.”

“I think what she did was chivalrous.”

Cas furrowed his eyebrows. “Chivalrous?”

“She didn’t want to be in our way,” Dean murmured. “She whispered that to me when she hugged me.”

Cas stared at his soft pink rose. His skin looked paler here. His cheeks had taken on a pinker tone. His raven hair was messy. Cas looked like a — lovely — fragile bird. 

Perhaps it was the weather in this garden. Dean thought it was a bit too chilly for his liking.

“I suppose I understand that,” Cas said, almost inaudibly. He looked at Dean. “I’m sorry for brooding.”

“It’s alright,” Dean said, rubbing Cas’s shoulder in comfort. “Everyone needs a good brood once in a while.”

Cas’s expression brightened a little. “Says the king of brooding, who would wait at the bunker for my return like a grumpy housewife.”

Dean chuckled, but didn’t deny the statement. “I made that bunker a home for you to come back to.”

Cas said fondly, “you really did.” He twirled the stem of his rose absentmindedly with his fingers. 

“Not that I don’t like reminiscing,” Dean said, “but do you need a distraction?”

“You do provide wonderful distractions,” Cas mused. “And you did look particularly hot killing two demons with one bullet today.”

This was the admission that Dean was hoping for. He smirked victoriously. “Let’s get out of this cold,” Dean stood up, “go home,” he held out his hand to Cas, “and make each other warm.”

Cas took Dean’s hand and lifted himself into a standing position. Cas held fast to the rose in his other hand.

Dean and Cas materialized inside their cabin in Heaven. 

Cas leaned against their bedroom door, cast his rose somewhere in the cabin, and removed his tan trench coat. It dropped to the floor and dissolved into thin air. “Your move,” he said.

Dean closed his eyes and asked for some extra physical strength. He had never tried anything of the sort, but Cas said Heaven was capable of it.

Dean opened his eyes and felt an energy flow through his arms. 

Oh, how the tables would turn tonight.

Dean boxed Cas against the door and placed his hands under Cas’s thighs. Cas lifted his legs, wrapping his arms around Dean’s neck. Dean held Cas up fairly easily, Cas looking shocked at the show of strength.

Dean was shocked too, honestly.

Cas wrapped his legs around Dean’s hips, tilting his head down. Dean tilted his up, and they met in the middle for a kiss. Dean rested one hand on Cas’s side while the other turned the doorknob. The door clicked open just as Cas pulled away from their plush kiss. Dean eased the door open with his foot, his gaze locked with Cas’s, and lead them inside their bedroom.

Eyes half-lidded with desire, Cas murmured in Enochian, “I understand why you made me lift you so often.” Cas chased down another kiss, Dean smiling into it.

Dean asked in his rusty version of Enochian, his breath ghosting Cas’s cheek, “does it make you feel safe? Sexy? Powerful? Loved? All of the above?”

“Yes,” Cas breathed, “all of the above.”

Dean reached the foot of their bed. He laid Cas on the mattress lightly. Cas smiled, watching as Dean crawled on top of him. Dean closed his eyes and allowed his temporary strength to diminish.

He opened his eyes, stared into Cas’s, and kissed his husband sweetly.

————

Dean observed his husband lying naked beside him, not caring about covering his body up. Cas’s eyes were fluttered shut, a soft smile stained his expression, and his tan skin glowed in the dim lighting.

Cas embodied a cat that was utterly unconcerned about everything outside of touching distance, lost in his own world. Dean studied his husband’s stress-free expression, long eyelashes, and permanent plush-lipped smile.

Dean delved into their bond, and felt wave after wave of pleasure on Cas’s end of it.

Was he really that good? After all these years?

Dean thought that a couple’s interest in sex was supposed to be mundane, scheduled, expected. That didn’t happen with them. After over fifty years of loving the angel beside him, Dean Winchester still felt like they were newlyweds.

This occasion, though, seemed to be especially pleasureable on Cas’s side.

Dean held out his hand and carded it through Cas’s untamable hair. Cas made a little noise. He took a deep breath, tilted his head to the side, and opened his eyes. Slivers of sparkling water stared back at Dean tiredly. 

Dean ruffled Cas’s hair as he looked at Cas lazily. He whispered in Enochian, “you’re welcome.”

As expected, Cas’s irises transformed into a sharp steel blade. Dean’s arm lanced with pain as Cas punched it, and he laughed.

“If you ever say that again,” Cas said, blue fire consuming his being, “you’re sleeping on the couch. Got me?”

Dean said remorsefully, “I got you.”

“Now sleep.”

Dean buried himself under sheets. “Night, darlin’.”

“Mhm.”

**Author's Note:**

> More craziness ensues in a few days with the next work. Kudos and comments are appreciated!


End file.
